


Sub Rosa

by orphan_account



Category: Jeeves & Wooster
Genre: F/F, Femslash, Ficlet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-04-21
Updated: 2008-04-21
Packaged: 2017-10-02 14:40:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Madeline longs for something more beautiful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sub Rosa

**Author's Note:**

> Don't remember Hilda? She was Madeline's rather sporty friend, who shot at Bertie once when he snuck into her house, who seemed to be there to steal a picture of the visiting Madeline.

Hilda takes a drag of her cigarette. Madeline is reminded of reading that they're supposed to be bad for you. How unlike Hilda, really, to smoke, when she takes such good care of herself otherwise. She and Harold have been married for a while now; perhaps she has picked it off him. Men always smoke, don't they? Roderick certainly does - him and his ghastly puffing.

Madeline watches Hilda's lips close over another cigarette and sighs a little. Hilda's mouth is like a rose. She can quite easily compare it to a rose; there's nothing remotely rose-like about Roderick, no matter how closely she looks.

They've been quiet for a while, a few words on babies and their lack thereof having exhausted all civil conversation. Madeline has been thinking of Hilda's mouth, and Hilda's fingers, now arrayed neatly on each side of the cigarette, and wondering if Hilda's been remembering, too. A glance is enough to confirm: she has.

'It's all very sad,' Madeline said after the last time they'd lain together, 'that neither of us is a man.' What a lie that was - Madeline doesn't want a man, no matter how much she tries, or how she likes it when they give her that goofy open-mouthed look that means they quite adore her. No - none of them are - none of them are remotely pretty.

They look at each other silently from across the room, Hilda standing by the window, Madeline sitting daintily on the sofa, jealous of Hilda's seventh cigarette.


End file.
